Fairy Godmother With A Gun
by Bombshell1701
Summary: Natasha takes Steve out on a 'practice date' and they end up getting to know each other over lots of vodka! A spin-off from the series SPEED OF LIFE, helps to have read that first. Rated T for mild angst and heavy drinking! Please R&R.
1. Prelude to a Date

**Prelude to a Date**

Steve successfully avoided Natasha for three full days before she cornered him in the men's change rooms at his gym.

"Hey! You can't be in here!" Steve complained.

Natasha smiled slightly and continued ambling towards him "Please. You don't have anything I haven't seen before in one form or another. But then again..." she raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly towards his hips.

Steve glowered at her, and pulled his towel tighter about his waist.

"So, you never answered that text I sent you the other night" she said conversationally.

"Oh. Yeah," Steve murmured, shuffling his feet nervously. "I figured you were joking."

"No," Natasha said. "I want you to take me out."

Steve nodded. "Why?" he asked. "Do you really feel _that _sorry for me?"

Natasha smiled slightly again. "Maybe a little." She looked speculatively at him- keeping her eyes on his face.

"Gee, thanks. That's what I need right now, a _pity date_" Steve said sourly.

"What if there wasn't any pity involved, and it also wasn't a date?" Natasha ventured.

"I mean, it could be a date, we could even make it a _practice date_ from start to finish. I could be your... _fairy godmother,_" she said distastefully, and Steve gave her a confused looked.

"But let's face it- that would be awkward. So, let's just go out and eat, and drink and talk... Actually formulate a _plan of attack_, as you like to say."

"A plan of attack for what?" Steve asked, brow furrowing.

"For getting you up to speed on dating." Natasha said, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Instead of just throwing you into the middle of the fray and expecting you to swim, which a certain friend of ours tried to do to you... unsuccessfully, I believe."

Steve frowned, and then considered her for a moment. "So, we would just hang out... talk... and you would give me... advice?"

Natasha nodded. "You don't even have to get dressed up if you don't want to."

"To be honest... I'd appreciate that. I have Tony and Clint and Bruce, and sometimes even Thor filling my brain up with strategies, a lot of which make absolutely no sense whatsoever- especially the things Thor tells me to do... Asgard must be a very unique place..." Steve rambled. "It would be good to get the honest opinion of a dame... a lady... a woman" he licked his lips. "And clearly I need guidance here. So much guidance."

"Clearly" Natasha agreed.

"But... won't it be awkward? If our colleagues think we're... you know?"

"No one is going to think we're knocking boots, Cap." Natasha drawled. "They know you've got more taste and smarts than that."

Steve looked confused for a moment. "Did you just insult yourself?" he wondered.

Natasha smiled at him. "Leave those bozos to me. If they say anything, or try to give you a hard time, I'll sort them out..." she trailed off menacingly, and Steve swallowed nervously.

_Now_ what was he getting himself into?

… … …

Author's notes: Finally it's here; I hope you will enjoy it! Also - follow me on Twitter and Pinterest! I'm registered in both places as **Bombshell1701 **so add me if you're into those things. It'll be fun.


	2. In which Steve gets ready to rumble

**Fairy Godmother with a Gun**

**Chapter 1**

"Dead man walking!" Tony cried with delight.

"Ha, yeah, you're very funny" Steve said sullenly as he walked into the room.

He was patting his pockets down, checking he had everything he needed for the night.

He pulled out his money clip and checked the cash it held; that amount would do, surely?

He tucked it back into his pocket and locked eyes with Clint. The other man was looking him over, a tiny smirk on his face.

"So, I see you've gone for the ever-chic hayseed look again," Clint said casually.

Steve frowned at him "Natasha told me to dress however I liked, as long as it was smart-casual."

"Well, you got one part of that standard right" Tony said.

"I don't think I need fashion advice from a grown man wearing a cardigan" Steve shot at Tony.

Clint laughed and Tony preened. "This is _YSL_" he stated.

"And that stands for _You're So Lazy_?" Steve suggested.

Tony laughed and Clint looked delighted. "Apply ice to area of burn," he instructed Tony. "He's been hanging out with you too much."

Tony just shook his head and continued to grin.

"C'mon guys, give him a break. Steve, you look fine" Bruce assured the blonde man.

"Thank you" Steve said kindly.

"But, Steve-" Bruce added.

"Oh, not you, too" Steve grumbled.

Bruce held up his hands in a placating gesture. "Are you sure cargo pants are..._ tidy_ enough?"

Steve threw his hands into the air in frustration. "I'm comfortable, okay? Please, no more fashion advice. From any of you. Ever. I'm not getting changed!"

Bruce nodded in assent, Tony smirked and Barton shrugged with an _oh well_ look on his face.

Steve sat on the couch with a sigh and watched TV in silence with the other men for a few minutes.

They were watching _Mythbusters_, and Steve hoped Natasha would show up before they started blowing things up on the show; Tony and Bruce had a habit of getting unnervingly rowdy when that happened.

The silence stretched on to the point of discomfort for Steve. "It's not even a date, okay!" he suddenly exploded.

Tony and Clint shot each other a quick look. Bruce didn't take his eyes off the TV screen.

"I'm going out to dinner with a colleague. A friend- that's all," Steve insisted. So it doesn't matter if I get all dressed up. Natasha knows me. She knows I have no style. She doesn't care." He folded his arms.

"Okay then," Tony said, reaching over to give Steve a good-natured slap on the leg. "You rock that hayseed look, anyway."

Steve's eyes narrowed.

"You're right...' Clint said with calculated thoughtfulness. "It is just Tasha. No big deal, she won't mind being dressed all beautifully and going out with _you_ looking like it's laundry day."

Steve looked stricken at the thought.

Bruce chuckled lightly. "Don't listen to them; she's not going to be dressed up. I mean, you guys are just going out to _Brooklyn_ for dinner, right?"

Steve frowned and sighed, then sprang to his feet and stalked out of the room.

The three men returned to watching TV.

"I think, technically, I won that one" Bruce said casually.

"Yeah, you were pretty much the final nail in the coffin" Clint admitted.

Tony held up a hand to Bruce for a high-five. "Tough love."

**… … …**

"So, you like Russian food, right? Because she'll take you to a Russian restaurant to show off, I guarantee it" Clint told him.

"I like Blintzes and stuff," Steve said with a shrug, tucking his pale blue shirt into his dark grey drill trousers.

"Yeah, well, prepare to drink a lot of vodka. Seeing as she can't get you drunk, she's going to get you try fifty different kinds until you can taste the difference" Clint said, shuddering.

"There are fifty different kinds of vodka?" Steve wondered.

"Hundreds, actually," Tony chimed in. "But most of them taste either exactly the same, or like methylated ass."

Steve cringed.

"And also, seeing as _you_ can't get wasted, she most likely will; so be prepared to carry her drunk ass home. Oh, and I hope you're flush tonight, because you'll be picking up the tab," Clint warned him.

"Well, of course. A gentleman always pays," Steve said, as though Clint were slightly dim.

"Oh, you got that right" Bruce muttered. Steve looked at him, puzzled, and he shook his head.

"Here," Tony said, handing Steve some notes. "I only have hundreds, but you'll need them."

"I have cash, it's fine," Steve said, rejecting the offer.

"You're taking Natasha Romanoff to a vodka restaurant. Whatever money you have on you will not be enough" Tony warned, waving the notes.

Steve reached out and took them, then added them to his money clip. He looked at his watch just as Natasha sauntered into the room.

She was wearing a softly fitted dress in a floaty, dark blue material that fell to the tops of her knees, and scooped just enough at the neckline to tantalise but not shock.

"Am I late?" She asked, noticing Steve's eyes on his wrist.

"Uh, no" Steve murmured. He glanced up at her and did a double-take. His mouth fell open slightly at the sight of her- it was the first time he'd ever seen her in a dress, or not wearing her makeup in a way that he tended to think of as her war paint.

He stared at her silently for a moment, and she shrugged at Tony. Tony smirked at Clint and Bruce in turn.

Steve ignored all of them as he continued to stare at Natasha.

"You look lovely, Natasha," Bruce chimed in, reaching over to poke Steve on the arm.

"Thank you, Bruce," Natasha answered warmly.

"Yes," Steve finally managed. "Blue is nice."

Behind him, Clint snicked.

"Ready to go?" Natasha asked.

Steve sprang to his feet "Sure." He checked his pockets again and obediently followed Natasha towards the elevator.

"Don't wait up, losers," she called back over her shoulder.

Steve turned to farewell the other men, and immediately regretted it, as Tony and Clint gave him enormous fake grins and thumbs up; and then Tony started making a very rude gesture with his fingers.

Bruce sighed and gave him an encouraging smile. Steve grimaced and stalked after Natasha.

He sighed once they'd stepped inside the lift compartment. "Sorry about that. They've been giving me a hard time all afternoon.'

"They've been giving me a hard time all week. Don't worry about it" Natasha said.

The doors closed, and Steve caught sight of their reflection in the shiny paneling.  
"Do I look okay?"

Natasha ran her eyes over him. "You look nice."

Steve nodded. "So... this is the right thing to wear? On a ..._date_." he confirmed.

"Sure" Natasha said casually. "Though, this isn't technically a date, remember."

"So… I'm not going to embarrass you?" Steve asked, stuffing his hands into his pants pockets.

Natasha turned to him, grabbed him by his forearms, and pulled his hands back out. "Only if you start crying at any point" she muttered.

"Well... try not to make me cry, then, okay?" Steve joked.

"I promise nothing" Natasha said, trying not to smile.

_TBC_

… … …

_Author's notes: Obligatory disclaimer- I own none of these characters, and make nothing from writing or posting this. Thank you for reading!_


	3. In which Natasha is sneaky

_My apologies for the delay in posting this: I had my head kicked in by a migraine the other day and couldn't handle doing anything on the computer. As a reward for your patience, I have combined 2 chapters into one, to double the fun! Thanks!_

**Fairy Godmother with a Gun**

**Chapter 2**

Steve had managed the trip out to Brooklyn by chit-chatting about a few movies he'd seen, and after a while he realised that Natasha didn't expect him to keep a running dialogue.

She wasn't one for small talk herself, so they often drifted into comfortable silence.

The part of Brooklyn the eventually emerged in wasn't quite familiar to Steve anymore, so he followed Natasha through the streets to a neighbourhood that had a distinctly Eastern European flavour.

"This place in one of my favourites" Natasha told him. "I figured you'd be down with Russian food because it's so hearty, and I've seen how you eat."

"Good choice" Steve said with a smile, looking around as they entered the restaurant.

It was long and thin and crowded with scrubbed wooden tables and chairs. The walls were decorated with intentionally kitsch folk-art, and candles and _Matryoshka_ dolls were scattered aplenty around the space.

It was warm, cosy and smelled delicious. A waitress led them through to a table for two near the back, and they settled themselves.

"Now," Natasha said with a smile, "Shall I be Russian or not?"

Steve's brow furrowed with confusion.

"Sometimes when I go to Russian restaurants, I like to pretend I don't know anything about the old country- you know, mispronounce words when I order, drink a lot of vodka and pretend to get wasted. It kinda' depends on the clientele..." she scanned the room intently for a moment.

"Hm... not too many Russian mobsters here tonight. Should be safe to roll out the mother tongue!"

Steve laughed nervously, looking around the room. "How can you tell if someone's Russian mafia?" he wondered.

"You hang around Eastern European boneheads long enough, and you start to be able to spot them a mile away. A bit like how _you_ can almost always spot a SHIELD tail any time Fury puts one on you."

"It's a survival instinct I guess. Hey, what do you mean _almost always_?" Steve started.

Natasha ignored his question and opened her menu. "We should decide what food we want first, and then match the vodka to it. Do you have much experience with vodka?"

"I had a very _bad_ experience with vodka once, when I was about seventeen. Bucky swiped a bottle from a liquor store. It didn't end well for either of us." Steve shuddered at the memory, and Natasha smiled.

"I like it when you talk about him, your friend, Bucky. He sounds like quite a character."

Steve smiled fondly, but there was sadness in his eyes. "He was. He was a great friend. Always getting me out of scrapes. Of course, a lot of the time he was the one getting me into them..." Steve shrugged.

"Sounds like the very definition of friendship."

"Well, the best friendships, anyway." Steve said with a shy grin. He silently studied Natasha for a moment. "I think you and Clint have that. The kind of friendship where one of you can screw up because the other has your back-"

"Pft. Let's take the night off from Barton, please. And the rest of our misfit adopted family" Natasha said casually. "What are you eating?" she said, changing the topic.

Steve sighed. "It all looks amazing. Would it be strange if I ordered one of everything?"

Natasha smiled "Steve, it would only be strange if you did that and didn't finish it all."

"If this was a regular date, and I didn't really know you, would the volume of food I consume seem strange?" Steve asked.

"Yes. Even _with_ knowing you, your metabolism still freaks me out" Natasha said flatly.

"Maybe I should try eating less if I'm out with a girl?"

"No!" Natasha said hotly. "Don't you dare. You have to be yourself. If a woman can't handle the sight of you putting away a whole cow and a farmer's market worth of salad, then an entire pan of brownies, then she isn't right for you." She slapped the menu shut. "Just be yourself as much as you can, as often as you can. It's easier to keep straight in your head."

Steve considered her for a moment. "That sounded like it came from a place of experience."

She laughed lightly. "My entire career, and most of my life, is based around pretending to be something I'm not, usually to please someone else. Trust me when I say I know how exhausting it is."

The waitress came over, and Natasha broke off to glance at her. She rattled off an order, and the waitress started scribbling on her notepad. Natasha continued talking, and the waitress began to look increasingly concerned. When Natasha finally stopped, the waitress asked a question in a surprised tone, gesturing to the notepad. Natasha made a comment, gesturing to Steve. The waitress peered at him, made a noise of understanding, smiled, and nodded.

"What did you end up ordering?" Steve asked. "And why did she look at me like that?"

"I got pretty much everything, except for the rollmops because they're gross, and the borscht because I'm sick of it," Natasha answered. "And she looked at you weird because I said you'd never eaten Russian food before, and I wanted to fatten you up before you met my Babushka."

"Oh" Steve murmured, blushing. "She thought I needed fattening up?" he added, concerned.

Natasha smiled at him.

Steve quietly looked around the room for a few minutes, studying the other diners.

There were several other pairs of people, and he wondered how many of them were couples. Or if any of them were on 'first dates.'

He chewed his bottom lip. "What you were saying before... thing is... how can I really be myself, considering who and _what _I am?"

Natasha leaned forward with a sigh. She watched him silently for a minute, and he avoided her eyes.

"I don't have an easy answer for you, Steve."

Steve looked at her, frowning slightly. "I know. I just wish someone could tell me what to do. Women flirt with me now, and I still don't know how to react. I keep catching myself thinking _what do I have to talk about with you? _Like in my head I've already skipped to being on a date with them, and it's going to be a disaster."

"Okay" Natasha said slowly. "So it's actually two things that bother you. Firstly, you're unsure about talking to women, and secondly, you're worried they're going to figure out you're _a man out of time._"

Steve nodded.

"And here was me thinking you just needed practice making conversation." she sighed.

She leaned in and spoke quietly to him. "Before SHEILD let you out into the world, they created a cover-story for you, and got you to memorise it so hard that you almost started to believe it, am I right?"

Steve nodded. "But that's not... me."

"Yeah, it is. It's who you have to be now, Steve, like it or not. At least when you're out in the real world. You don't want people knowing who you really are. You think you're life is a ball of crazy now? What if some investigative journalist asshole discovered your _true _identity- when you were really born, and what your day-job is- and puts your picture and name on an e-news site?" she frowned and shook her head.

"You have to accept the fact that you have a double life. You've had to leave your old life, your true identity behind, and take up a new one. At least you still get to be _Steven Rogers_; you didn't have to totally change your name. Or your look."

Steve began to shake his head, and Natasha continued "Not everyone gets to be Tony Stark, with enough money and lawyers and firepower to be able to do whatever they want. Some of us have to adapt and move on."

Steve stared at her sullenly, his face flushing. "Then everything you said before means nothing."

Natasha gave him a confused look and he elaborated. "About being yourself. About not pretending to be someone you're not."

The waitress wandered over to them, vodka at the ready.

"_Your timing is impeccable_" Natasha told her in the mother tongue.

She set down a small bottle of clear liquid and two small glasses.

"Are you serious?" Steve commented, looking at the bottle. "I thought we'd both start with a cocktail, not a whole bottle."

"Pft! This isn't a whole bottle, just two-hundred grams of winter grain_ Imperia _to share with our meal. We'll do some infused shots later so you can really get a taste for it. And who the hell ruins perfectly good vodka by putting into a cocktail?"

Steve's brows drew together.

"You need a drink" Natasha said, pouring the vodka and pushing one of the little glasses across the table. Steve took it and gave her a grateful look.

"_Zuh vahs_" he said. He downed the shot and grimaced. Natasha raised her eyebrows and sipped her shot in a much more refined way, savouring the flavour on her tongue. When she'd finished her glass, she refilled it, but didn't offer Steve the next shot.

"You need to know how to drink vodka" she stated.

"I know how to drink vodka- fast so you can't taste it."

Natasha made a hissing noise, and held up the next glass to demonstrate. "Take a sip. Hold the liquid on your tongue for a minute until it warms up, and you can taste the flavours. Then sip the rest slowly." She demonstrated, and then handed Steve his next shot.

"You're trying to change the subject." he said, sipping the liquid.

Natasha gave him a dismissive wave and leaned in to speak quietly to him.

"You don't have to give up being _you_. You just have to be a different version of the truth. You can still be the guy you are on the inside; it's just the outside details that have to be changed. The superficial stuff.

You can still be from Brooklyn. You can still be the kid who was homeschooled because he was sick as a child. You can still be the same man who wept when his best friend died. Hell, you can still be the guy who joined the army;

You just can't be the guy who went through _Project Rebirth_; you can't be the guy who led assaults against Hydra in World War Two. And you definitely can't be a guy who was snap-frozen in the Arctic for seventy years."

"All those things made me who I am today."

"No" she said definitively. "_No_. I've read your file, and I've gone into battle with you and seen it all first hand. You were already the man you are now a long time before you met Dr Erskine or joined the Army. You were just configured differently, is all. You may feel as though you've lost everything, but you haven't lost _that_." she tapped her chest over her heart.

Steve looked down, his expression so sad that Natasha felt guilty. She pushed the next glass at him. He downed it thoughtlessly, ignoring her disapproving look.

"So what you're saying is... I should be myself, while at the same time, not be myself. And just... hope for the best."

"The best is all we can ever hope for. What you need to do is learn how to strike a balance."

"What would you do? If you met someone?" he asked.

"I would be Natalie Rushman, a notary who works for Stark Industries, who travels a lot for her job and sometimes gets bumps and bruises from participating in extreme sports." she took a long sip of her vodka, and shrugged.

"But I would still be _me._ Smart but sarcastic; a lousy cook but a good dancer; always up for a fight. Because that's who I've always been. That wouldn't have to change."

Steve stared at her. "But still- you'd be lying to someone you profess to love."

Natasha's mouth quirked up at the side "Yeah, I'll cross that bridge when I come to it." She drained another measure of vodka at the thought.

"I think we have a very different view of love" Steve muttered.

"I think you're absolutely correct" Natasha answered. "You'll have to do what you feel is right when it comes down to it. Keep being Steve, a guy who is a consultant for the government, who does Krav Maga and prefers classic jazz to pop- keep the truth from the person you love to keep them safe.

Or, you could take the chance... tell them about the _Red, White and Blue _you sometimes wear. Tell them all those crazy stories in _Fortean Times_ are actually true... and see how they take it? And hope they take it well, because if you tell them, and they walk away... how far do you think they'll get before SHIELD silences them?"

Steve's eyes widened at this comment.

"Hadn't thought about it like that, had you?" Natasha said flatly.

They fell silent as the waitress came over with their food.

TBC

… … … …

_Author's notes: The Russianisms contain herein are based on various Russian dictionaries and the advice of a friend who speaks some Russian; please excuse me if they're not 100% modern and accurate, Russian is a tricky language! Thanks for reading._

Follow me on Twitter or Pinterest:** Bombshell1701**


	4. In which Steve is ashamed

**Chapter 3**

Steve avoided Natasha's eyes, as he pulled a plate of pirozhki towards himself and started eating.

He polished off those with a bowl of Russian salad, and was halfway through a plate of kotlety before he spoke again.

He still did not look up as he asked, "I've never going to be able to date anyone, am I?"

"Sure you will" Natasha told him. She'd made short work of her own dumplings and meatballs and watching Steve pack it in was starting to make her feel full, so she returned to sampling the vodka.

She thought for a moment. "Have you considered finding a date close to home?"

"One of my neighbours?"

Natasha chuckled. "No, I meant someone who works for SHEILD. Though, that would include any and all of the people who live in your building."

"I suppose that might help me to avoid some awkward questions about why I don't really get technology or pop culture." Steve said lightly.

"How about Maria Hill?" Natasha said casually.

Steve nearly choked on a bite of kotlety He coughed it up, and then tried to clear his throat with a shot of vodka, which led to another violent bout of coughing. Natasha watched him calmly, pouring another vodka into her mouth.

"Very funny" Steve grumbled.

"She_ is _a woman, contrary to popular belief" Natasha told him. "And she's always checking out your ass, so I'm willing to bet she'd be amenable to a date. Maybe more..."

Steve frowned deeply and shook his head.

"Just a thought."

She smiled up at the waitress as the woman brought a fresh bottle of vodka. Natasha refilled Steve's glass, so he took a sip.

"Are you a virgin?" Natasha asked him.

Steve practically spat the vodka in her face from shock. He covered his mouth with his napkin and had another coughing fit.

The waitress brought him over a glass of water, and patted him sympathetically on the back, muttering in Russian to Natasha, "_he can't hold his vodka, can he?_"

Natasha smirked at her. She waited until the waitress had left before speaking again. "I'm sorry. That was blunt."

"That's a very personal question" Steve said quietly.

"It's no big deal if you are" Natasha told him.

"Well, people act like it is. It _wasn't_ a big deal back in my day-"

"-Was if you were a woman" Natasha cut in. "Nobody wanted a gal if she was _damaged goods_."

Steve nodded slightly in assent. "Even back then it didn't have to be a big deal if you were discreet about it. Kids these days... they rush into physical stuff soon as they can, just to prove a point on how 'grown-up' they are. And when something goes wrong- there's a pregnancy, or they get an infection... they're not mature enough to deal with those consequences. That's why people waited back in my day..."

"Or had shotgun weddings" Natasha said with a tiny smile.

"Yeah. There _were_ a lot of those, I suppose. Especially for servicemen."

"So how come you never..." Natasha shrugged. She drained another glass.

Steve gave a humourless laugh "Because up until my early twenties, I couldn't find a gal who even wanted to hold my hand. And then... well after _Rebirth._.." he sighed. "There were opportunities. Many opportunities, actually- I'm not boasting, things really changed for me across the board.

But I didn't... I didn't want it to _just happen_. And then I actually went off to war, and that complicated things..." he shrugged.

"Well, it's nobody's business, Steve."

He gave her a very grim smile "Tell that to Tony. You know... he offered to hire me a... _professional_ lady. To, uh, how did he put it? _Relieve me of the flower of my manhood_. What does that even mean?" Steve exclaimed. His face burned with shame.

Natasha rolled her eyes "Who knows- sounds like classic Stark. He probably didn't mean to piss you off..."

"No. He was drunk at the time, so I forgave him for being a meddling jerk. He's as bad as his father. And his advice is just about as helpful."

Natasha reached across the table and rubbed Steve's hand. "Don't be ashamed," she murmured. "And don't ever let _anyone_ rush you into anything."

"I won't. I just get sick of the little comments, just from the guys. Like they're implying something's wrong with me." He said, averting his eyes.

"Nothing's wrong with you, _mishku_. It's your body. No one can tell you what to do with it. It's your private business, just ignore them. It'll happen when the time is right."

Steve blushed harder "I know," he said quietly. He swallowed nervously and shrugged. "Even if it doesn't... that's okay."

"Hey, it'll happen for you." Natasha reassured him. "And if it doesn't... there's always Maria Hill" Natasha said.

Steve burst out laughing.

"Don't laugh. I bet, given a chance, she'd be on you in a heartbeat. It'd be like watching a lioness hunt a wounded zebra." Natasha deadpanned.

"Stop it! I have to work with her. I'm not going to be able to look her in the eyes!" Steve complained, clutching his stomach.

"Why, because you'll see the lust there, now?" Natasha joked.

Steve buried his face in his hands and laughed. "You are depraved!" he groaned.

Natasha smiled at him. "I got you laughing, though, _Captain Serious_. It's a good look for you- you have a lovely smile."

Steve clutched his full, aching stomach, and looked down shyly "Yeah, I think I needed it. The conversation has been a bit... dire all night."

Natasha shrugged.

"I'm sorry. It this was an actual date, you'd be so bored and depressed."

"If this was an actual date, hopefully we wouldn't be having intensely personal conversations like this. At least, not until the fourth date."

"Fourth date, really?" Steve said, cringing. "So what am I supposed to talk about on dates one through three?" he was frowning again.

"Have a couple of topics lined up that you can talk about... movies, art, food... and just get as much mileage as you can out of them."

"But what if she brings up something I don't know about? Something really obvious that it would be strange me not knowing?"

"Change the subject."

"Oh. But then I'll look like a jerk."

"You'd look like a jerk anyway."

"Good point. Uh, okay... what if she starts talking about something in particular I don't know, like a band, or an old TV show?"

"Let her talk about it, and maybe you'll learn something. Then if you like her, and want to see her again, go home and Google it so you can talk about it with her next time. Or... if the situation gets really complicated, make an excuse to go to the bathroom and quickly research it on your phone."

"Hey! That's a great idea!"

"See. Not all technology sucks."

"Just fax machines and microwaves."

"Yeah. Everyone hates fax machines."

"I just... I have to be careful not to put my foot in my mouth... I'm worried I'll say the wrong thing, and look like a fool. The other day, I walked in on a conversation Tony and Clint were having about _Franz Ferdinand_. I thought they were talking about Archduke Ferdinand of Austro-Hungary; so I started talking about the First World War... they looked at me like I was nuts."

"_Franz Ferdinand _is rock band from Scotland, _dorogoi__̆__"_

"Well, I know that now!" Steve grumbled. "But it sure gave them a laugh. Can you imagine if I said that in front of a date?"

Natasha inclined her head thoughtfully. "You could always say you were joking."

"No. That wouldn't work. You've seen how easily I blush."

"Hmmm... we need to work on that. But I suppose if you hang out with fools like us long enough, we'll soon cure you of it."

"Great" Steve said dryly.

They sat in companionable silence for several minutes, continuing to taste the vodka.

Natasha was many glasses ahead of Steve, and starting to feel very relaxed. Despite his fast metabolism even Steve seemed to have loosened up.

He was gazing longingly at the menu. Natasha smiled. "I feel like I won't be able to eat for a week, but you're already hungry again, aren't you?"

Steve looked sheepish and shrugged.

"Order more food," Natasha encouraged. "Then I won't look like a drunkard when I order more vodka."

… … … …

_Author's notes: I hate fax machines, and writing about food makes me hungry! The restaurant here is based upon an actual restaurant in Melbourne, but it's Polish, not Russian. If you ever come to Melbourne, we're going there._

_Obligatory disclaimer: I own nothing. _


	5. In which Natasha clears something up

**Chapter Four**

Natasha poured herself another measure of spirits as the waitress set plates of blini, shashlyk, and shuba before Steve. He rubbed his hands together in anticipation and dug in.

After trying a bit of everything, he looked up at Natasha and frowned.

"I'm sorry... would you like some food?" he offered.

She smirked at him and shook her head _no_, and refilled her glass, then held the bottle up. "I'm sorry, would you like some vodka?"

Steve smiled and shook his head, and then fell upon the food with enthusiasm.

"So, what do you talk to your dance partners about when you're dancing?"

Steve sat back with a sigh and shook his head, but he was smiling slightly. "Does everyone know about that?"

"It's urban legend around the Avenger's mansion; no-one, apart from me, has actually ever seen you dance. And I refuse to confirm or deny my sightings to the others."

Steve laughed lightly "Thank you. I'd never hear the end of it from the guys."

"I think they'd be impressed, maybe a little jealous" Natasha said casually.

Steve suddenly stopped eating and looked up to stare at Natasha. "Wait a minute... what do you mean, _you've_ seen me dance? When have you seen me dance?"

"Fury had me tailing you for a while after our first mission, just to make sure you handled the aftermath of being thrust back into action." she shrugged. "I watched you in your class a few times."

Steve thought hard, and shook his head, "I had no idea. I never saw you-"

"I'm good at what I do, Cap. You should know that by now. I'm a sneaky bitch."

He sat back with a sigh "And _that's_ what you meant by how I almost never know when Fury has a tail on me. Right." He shook his head at her.

She smiled at him, not flinching under his scrutiny. "So. What do you talk about? When you're dancing?"

"Uh... I don't know. Just chit-chat. Nothing important. It's mostly chatter to distract me from what my feet are doing. If I over-think it, or count along, I end up crunching toes."

Natasha nodded slowly, understanding. Steve chuckled again and shook his head. "I can't believe you tailed me to a dance class. That's... what the expression now? So _lame_" he said with irony, earning a grin for Natasha.

"You're getting good. At dancing" she added. "It's nice to see you add to your skill set." she tipped her head to the side and considered him. "You haven't considered asking any of your classmates out?"

"No way, too awkward." Steve said, colouring slightly. "I don't know if that would be appropriate. I mean, we're all there to dance. I wouldn't want to corner anyone... that would be uncomfortable."

"A lot of people take dance classes hoping to meet someone, and I'm certain a couple of your classmates would like it if you asked them out. And a few others would probably ask _you…_ but they've already decided you're gay." Natasha smirked.

Steve's cheek burned. "I get that a lot."

Natasha laughed lightly "You're not stylish enough!" she teased.

Steve looked to be on the verge of telling her to shut up, but Natasha knew he'd never be so rude to a lady, even if that lady was only her. He glanced over to a same-sex couple seated nearby, who were happily and openly holding hands across the table.

"Does that bother you?" Natasha wondered.

Steve shook his head. "No," he said honestly.

Natasha looked pleasantly surprised. "It has to be a culture shock for you though?"

"I went to art school" Steve told her, and she laughed.

Steve shrugged. "Something I decided a long time ago- I may not understand it, and I may not think it's quite right; but it's none of my business. People don't choose whom they fall in love with, it just happens. And I'm glad things have change to a point where people don't have to be ashamed to be in love."

Natasha considered this for a moment. "Well said."

Steve nodded absentmindedly and went back to eating.

"Okay," he said after he polished off the last of the blini. "Seeing as you've been dissecting me all night, putting me on the spot... I think it's high time I got to ask _you_ some hard questions."

Natasha's eyes narrowed, and she sipped her vodka. "Right. Here we go. I bet I can guess exactly what you're going to ask me."

"Maybe" Steve said casually.

"Well, I'm reasonably drunk now, so ask away..." she said sourly.

Steve licked his lips and took a deep breath. "What's the story with you and Barton?"

"There is no story with me and Barton." Natasha said flatly.

Steve's expression told her that he didn't believe her. She shrugged.

"No, you don't get away with it that easily. There's _something_ there, between the two of you. Some sort of... unresolved... something?"

Natasha laughed quietly and took another deep draught of her vodka "You think Barton and I have _UST_?"

Steve's brow furrowed "_Ust_?" he queried.

"Unresolved Sexual Tension" Natasha elaborated. To her surprise, Steve didn't blush at this.

"Yes" he said simply.

Natasha sighed heavily and refilled her glass. "Why is it impossible for people to believe that a man and a woman can be platonic friends? Why does everyone think we're always on the verge of falling into bed together, or that we already did that, and now we don't know how to deal?"

"Did you? Or, are you?"

Natasha laughed "No. and no. It's not like that, Steve. It's so far removed from that. He's more than just my colleague, sure. He's like … family... but it goes beyond that, too. We've saved each other's asses so many times I've lost count. So, for people to look at us, look at the connection we have, and dumb it down, make it about sex... it's insulting."

"I didn't mean to offend you!" Steve said quickly.

"I know" Natasha said, shrugging one shoulder.

Steve didn't look satisfied with her explanation. "But the way the two of you interact... it's more complicated than friendship. You snipe at each other in a very particular way, and give each other such a hard time. And the way Clint reacted when you showed up at the speed dating thing... you can't blame me for thinking there's something _more_ there..."

An unhappy look passed across Natasha's face so quickly that Steve almost thought he imagined it. She was thinking very hard about something, and Steve sat very still and quiet, not wanting her to put up her emotional walls again.

"There was this woman Clint was dating, a while ago now... she was _not _right for him, but he was so smitten with her... Anyway, she didn't _get _him and me either- but for her it started being a problem. She couldn't accept that he and I were just colleagues, that there was nothing between us. Didn't matter what he said to her, or what I said to her; she was jealous and untrusting. And eventually, it got the better of her, and she gave him an ultimatum- her or me."

Steve stared at her. "Oh."

Natasha looked away and took a shot of vodka. "That... took its toll on our friendship, I suppose. Things haven't been _quite _the same since. Bit that doesn't mean... it _isn't_..." she trailed off. "Don't you dare ever mention this to Barton. We don't talk about _her_."

"I won't. And I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable" Steve said quietly after several minutes of awkward silence.

Natasha smirked at him "I've been giving you hell all night, turnabout is fair play."

Steve managed a smile.

Natasha drained her last shot and sat back. The strained silence continued.

"So, where are these fancy infused vodkas you warned me about?" Steve said conversationally.

… … … … …

_Author's notes: And here we see my feelings about Natasha and Clint's relationship. I don't and won't ship them romantically, because I see them as having an epic friendship that is based on respect, not physical attraction. Because I know for a fact epic, non-sexy friendship CAN exist between men & women! Also, the woman Natasha mentions isn't canon in Clint's official back-story, just someone I dropped in for effect. Thank you for reading!_

_Follow me on Twitter and Pinterest_ **Bombshell1701**


	6. In which Steve gets his proper respect

**Chapter Five**

"You can't taste that?" Natasha said in disbelief.

Steve shook his head apologetically.

"Man, being frozen has screwed with your taste buds or something" Natasha grumbled.

"I could kinda' taste the honey infusion in the first one, and the chilli in the other one. But bison grass? What is that supposed to taste like?"

"It tastes like... grass" Natasha suggested.

"Mmm. Grass flavoured vodka, yum yum" Steve said patting his stomach.

"Shuddup" Natasha slurred with a smirk. She leaned her elbows on the table and rested her face in her hands, smiling blissfully at Steve. "I'm sorry you can't get loaded. You'd be having so much more fun if you could."

"I'm having fun" Steve said lightly. "Tonight has been a real... eye-opener"

"Yep, you're finally seeing the true Natasha Romanoff." she said dryly.

"I feel privileged" Steve said. "And don't worry, I won't tell anyone what a kitty cat you really are."

Natasha made a scoffing noise "Better not. I know where you sleep. You wanna wake up dead tomorrow?"

"Better than waking up hung-over."

"Same difference." Natasha murmured, pouring a measure of vodka into her mouth. "Mmmm, chocolaty."

"Okay. I think the bartender is cutting you off. And if he's not, I am."

Natasha swore enthusiastically in Russian.

"How would it look if I had to carry you home over my shoulder?" Steve reasoned.

"It would look like a typical Saturday night. Only, usually Barton's shoulder is my ride home."

Steve laughed lightly and signalled for the bill.

"And you know what; sometimes it's the other way around- me lugging his drunken ass home. Even though I swear he weighs a metric tonne when he's blind. That's what friends do." she said with a sweet smile.

Steve sat back and looked at her. She looked younger than he'd ever seen, her expression more open, almost relaxed. Even with the enormous quantity of alcohol she'd put away, though, he knew she was still completely in control of herself, and almost certainly still lethal if she needed to be.

He wondered if her guard ever completely came down. He wondered if in a few years he'd look like that. He wondered if he already did.

"So, we're friends, huh?" he asked.

"Looks like" she said with a grin.

Steve continued to study her, and she pretended to ignore him.

"Why?" he wondered.

"Why what?" she asked. "Why are we friends?"

He shrugged "Why are we here tonight? What makes you feel like you need to protect me? Or help me? I've got the guys to help me figure this stuff out. What makes the infamous _Black Widow_ take on a hopeless case like me? You don't feel sorry for me."

""How do you know?" she challenged.

"I've never seen pity in your eyes."

She nodded and looked thoughtful. "It's true. I don't pity you. I do worry about you, though. And I don't trust the guys with you a lot of the time. You're too... vulnerable. No, that's not right." she corrected. "You're... special."

Steve laughed humorlessly.

"Steve... I don't admire many people, and there are even fewer that I respect. But you... you have both those things from me. You earned them.

You are a decent human being, and you influence everyone around you, though none of us would ever want to admit it because we think we're too tough.

You don't have to change anything about yourself. Somehow... somehow you make it work. This strange life of yours doesn't matter one bit to the people who really care about you. And when you find the right girl... even if everything about you doesn't quite add up, it won't matter to her, either."

Steve looked at her and sighed. "Natasha Romanoff getting sentimental? No more vodka for you."

She smiled "I mean every word. I just had to get drunk enough to be able to say it."

"That's the nicest thing a tipsy Russian woman has ever said to me."

The waitress laid the bill on the table, and Steve picked it up, keeping his face neutral as he looked at the total. He was glad Tony had slipped him the extra cash.

"And because we're such good friends, and I respect you so much, I'm gonna let you pick up the tab" Natasha said with a smirk.

"You're a pal" Steve murmured, handing the waitress the total and a generous tip.

He looked speculatively at Natasha "Do you need me to piggy-back you out of here?"

"Steve, please. How many times have I got drunk on vodka? I'm no amateur." she said testily. She rose smoothly to her, feet, and swayed only a little on her heels.

"Now. I'm going to buy you an ice cream. Then we're going to figure out whom to set you up with."


	7. In which Nat and Steve get some action

_Please note: there is a little bad language in this chapter…_

**Chapter Six**

"Good call" Natasha murmured, polishing off the last bite of her ice cream. She tossed the cup into a bin, and reached up, linking her arm through Steve's. Steve hid a small smile behind the enormous ice cream cone he was still working on.

"We did not have _Hokey Pokey_ back in my day" he commented.

"Aren't you glad you live now?"

"Yes. I'm just in time for the obesity epidemic."

"Well, I don't think you have anything to worry about, you lucky bastard" she muttered, eyeing his perfectly flat stomach.

They walked in silence for several minutes.

"So, you're still not sold on Maria Hill?" she said conversationally.

Steve laughed "That's a negative on Hill."

"And here I was thinking you're all brave and strong" Natasha teased. "Hmm... What about Lieutenant Carr or Lieutenant Rau?"

"Steve's eyebrows drew together in thought.

"You've met them. They're both bridge officers aboard the Helicarrier. They spend a lot of time on deployment, so they're not always around, but well... they're both single. They both seem... nice. And they've both turned Clint down for dates, which shows they have good taste." she smirked.

"I'm not sure who they are" Steve admitted.

"Carr is a blonde, Rau is a brunette."

"That narrows it down" Steve joked.

Natasha smiled. "I'll introduce you next time they're in town."

"Uh... okay" Steve muttered. Natasha gave his arm a small, reassuring squeeze.

"Wait- have you met Carol Danvers? She's one of Rhodey's Air Force buddies" Natasha said suddenly.

"I've met Colonel Rhodes, but I don't think-"

"Why hasn't Tony introduced her to you? She's gorgeous- you'd love her. Very accomplished, too. We have to engineer a meeting. I'm gonna kick Tony in the-"

"Looks aren't the most important thing to me," Steve interjected. "I just want someone I can talk to. Someone I can have an honest, nice time with" he admitted.

He shrugged, "I'd like it if they were pretty, sure... but as long as they make an effort... that's what's important."

Natasha nodded slowly. "Okay... okay. Someone nice and down-to-earth, then?"

"That sounds good" Steve said with a sigh.

"Sitwell has a sister. She's... cute. I'm sure she could be trusted with your particular national secret."

"I've met Topaz Sitwell, thank you. She's only twenty, which is a little young for me."

"Ah, into the older ladies? Well, I suppose that does make sense. I'm sure we could find you a nice cougar. Maybe even a good, strong senior citizen. You'd have to be careful not to break their... walking frame-"

"That's not funny." Steve said shortly, frowning very deeply.

"I'm joking. Lighten up."

"It's disrespectful." Steve said quietly.

"I apologise, "Natasha said lightly. "Though, I'm not kidding about finding you a cougar. That's possibly the best idea I've had all week."

Steve sighed. "I don't like aggressive women."

"Well, get used to it. Women don't stand around waiting for their prince to show up nowadays. Well, the smart ones don't, anyway. They get out there and get on with life"

"Fair enough. But still, I want to be the one doing the chasing. One of these days." he sighed.

Natasha just smirked. "There is a woman out there, somewhere, who doesn't realise how lucky she's gonna' be when you find her..."

Steve blushed and dipped his head shyly.

As they descended the stairs into the subway, they heard a shout from the tunnel. Both of them looked up, on the alert. There was a sound of a scuffle.

Steve broke into a run, skidding to a stop in from of an older couple who looked distressed and rumpled.

"Are you all right?" Steve asked.

"He grabbed my bag." the woman said, shocked, she pointed to the other end of a tunnel, where a man was fleeing.

Steve turned to Natasha.

"Weren't we taking the night off?" she muttered.

"You've been drinking- better sit this one out." Steve told her. "Call the police, and stay with them, make sure they're okay?" Steve gestured to the couple.

"It's okay, look, we're fine, and he had a knife. Just let it go." The man said.

"No, sir, you should feel safe in your neighbourhood."

Natasha rolled her eyes- even without the uniform she recognised _Captain America _mode when she saw it. "Go get 'em, tiger" she drawled.

Steve broke into a sprint, following the thief up the stairs. He paused at the top of the stairs, listening for the sound of footfalls.

He pursued the man though several side streets, and caught up with him in an alley, where he and another man were already rifling through the bag for valuables.

"Okay. Hand it over." Steve said, stopping next to them.

The thief swore at him, and went back to searching the bag.

Steve was perplexed. "I'm sorry. Maybe you didn't hear me. I said, hand the bag over. It's being returned to its owner. Now."

The two men stopped suddenly and looked at each other. One began to laugh, and casually pulled a knife from his pocket.

"Do-gooders get cut up" he threatened.

"And thieves go to prison" Steve said, not unkindly.

"Are you a retard?" the other man said. He pulled his knife.

"No, I'm not; and using the word _retard_ as an epithet is insulting to mentally disabled people. I'm really starting to dislike you."

The two men stared incredulously at Steve for a moment.

"Fuck off!" the second man screamed. He dropped the bag and moved towards Steve, and Steve could tell by his eyes that he wasn't playing at this.

Steve adopted a defensive posture. "Put the knife down, before somebody gets hurt" he demanded.

"I'm going to fucking gut you" the growled. He was twitchy and strung out, and Steve felt a twinge of sympathy.

"Put the knives down, both of you, and we can get you some help" Steve reasoned.

The aggressive man lunged at Steve, and Steve side-stepped, easily avoiding the blade, His hands darted out, grabbing the man's exposed hand and wrist, and twisting them in opposing directions.

The man cried out, more in shock than pain, and dropped the knife. Steve used the thug's momentum against him, pivoting to toss the man onto the ground several feet away. He swiftly kicked the knife down the alleyway, out of reach, and turned to face down the other man.

Before he could move in to disarm the second thug, a body leapt between him and his target. A well-placed kick sent the knife spinning out of the thug's hand and up into air; a series of neat punches dropped the man into a groaning heap at Steve's feet.

The knife tumbled back down, and Natasha snatched it out of the air. She and Steve looked at each other.

"I had it under control, thank you" Steve said politely. "You should have stayed with the couple- they were in shock."

"They're fine. A couple of _boys in blue_ are with them. I came to see why it was taking you so long to catch a mugger. I didn't realise you were going to bake them cookies and sing _Soft Kitty_ to them."

"I was trying to de-escalate the situation." Steve said dryly.

"How'd that work out for you?" She hauled the man she'd disarmed to his feet and pinned his arms behind his back. He whimpered in fright.

"I can't believe you weighed in. Drunk, wearing a dress _and _high heels. That's reckless" Steve scolded.

"Pft. I've taken down guys way more badass than these dorks, while wearing a lot less, with a lot more alcohol in my system" she said dismissively. "_The only time I'm vulnerable is when my nail polish is wet, and even then I can pull a trigger if I need to_" Natasha quipped.

Steve looked at her, stunned.

"I saw that on Pinterest" Natasha said, shrugging.

Steve rolled his eyes, found the knife he'd kicked away, scooped up the stolen purse and collected the man he'd taken out.

Together, he and Natasha frog-marched the two would-be thieves back to the uniformed officers in the subway tunnel. He returned the purloined bag to its grateful owner.

"What were you saying, about wanting to be the one doing the chasing?" Natasha teased him. "Be careful what you wish for, _Mishka_!"

… … … … …

"So..." Natasha drawled. "This would be the point where I'd invite you in for a nightcap, if I was interested in you."

They were standing outside her door.

"And if I wanted to politely decline?" Steve asked.

She grinned "Worried you won't respect me in the morning?"

"Worried you won't respect me, more like" he said softly.

"Then say you have an early start tomorrow, and say goodnight."

Steve nodded. "Thanks, Natasha. Tonight was fun-"

"My favourite part was the mugging!" she said archly.

Steve smiled and shook his head. "No. But the rest was... I enjoyed getting to know you. And I'm glad we're friends. I feel a lot better going out in the world knowing you've got my back."

She considered him. "That I do, Steve."

They looked at each other calmly for a moment, until Steve broke away, suddenly shy.

Natasha smiled fondly at him. "You gonna' kiss me goodnight?"

"Oh" Steve murmured. Tentatively, he reached up and rested one hand on her shoulder, then leaned in and pressed his lips chastely to the apple of her cheek.

"Good night" he said quietly. "And thanks, for everything."

She reached up and patted him on the cheek. "You're all right" she said.

Steve turned and started for the elevator, but stopped suddenly when a realisation hit him- that was the first time ever _he'd_ kissed a dame! He'd been grabbed and kissed a few times by a couple of different ladies, sure, but no... that was the first time_ he'd _chosen to put his lips on a woman. It was only her cheek, and they were only friends, but still... that was a hell of a thing!

Steve grinned expansively.

_TBC_

… … …

_Author's notes: A nice, long chapter this time. Only two more left…_

_I didn't think Steve & Natasha could go out on the town without some sort of adventure happening to them, so cue the muggers! _

_Oh, and for those of you who have never tried _Hokey Pokey_ ice cream, it originated in New Zealand, and it is chunks of crunchy butterscotch in vanilla ice cream. They sometimes have it at _Baskin Robbins_. Goes well with hot chocolate sauce on top!_

_Thanks for reading!_


	8. In which Steve is a changed man

**Finale**

They were almost as he'd left them. Bruce was asleep in the recliner, his glasses askew, completely oblivious to the racket Tony and Clint were making as they tried to kill each other horribly via some sort of gory video game.

"Well, I'm guessing you didn't get laid" Tony slung at Steve, hardly taking his eyes off the TV screen. "Know how I can tell?"

Steve gave the other man a cynical look.

"Because the Black Widow tears off its mates' head during sex. And eats it. And you look reasonably intact."

Clint laughed.

"That's a myth. The black widow spider only occasionally cannibalises its mate. And then it's only in desperation because it can't find any other source of food."

Tony chuckled. "Yeah, I know. But congratulations on figuring out Wikipedia."

"So I guess the restaurant was good, seeing as she didn't _eat _you." Clint said suggestively.

Tony laughed, but then yelled with frustration and threw down his wireless controller as Clint killed him. Clint howled with laughter. Bruce didn't stir.

"We had a really nice time" Steve said, throwing himself down on the couch. "So lay off." He fixed Clint with a speculative look.

Clint raised his eyebrows and turned to say something smart, but the way Steve was looking at him gave him pause.

"What?" he demanded.

Steve studied him quietly. "Nothing" he said simply.

Clint's eyes narrowed. "What did she say about me?"

Steve shrugged "Not a thing. We had so many interesting things to discuss, your name never really came up" he lied.

Clint continued to stare at Steve.

"What about me? You talk about me?" Tony wanted to know.

"Not a word. We were having way too much fun."

Tony grinned in a distracted way.

"She did fill me in on Budapest, though." Steve casually deadpanned to Clint.

Another lie.

"Hell she did" Clint muttered. He took up his controller and returned to butchering Tony.

"Budapest?" Tony wondered aloud.

"Ignore him. He's been hanging around with Natasha, so he's full of crazy-talk."

"Maybe I am, maybe I'm not." Steve said smoothly. "But I will tell you one thing for sure- Natasha Romanoff is a hell of a kisser."

That was the biggest lie of all, and when it got back to Natasha she'd mostly likely kill him; but the look upon the other men's faces made it worth the risk.

He'd only been on one date with the Russian femme fatale- but he was a quick learner.

_TBC_


	9. Epilogues

**Speed Of Life**

**Epilogues **

_**One**_

Steve was parched. The strategy meeting with Fury and the team of senior analysts had stretched out to nearly four hours, and Steve's throat felt like he'd talked non-stop the entire time.

He entered the break room, making a bee-line for the water cooler, and was halfway through pouring himself a cup when he noticed Maria Hill sitting at the table.

"Captain" she murmured.

Steve managed not to startle. He gave her a nod. "Ma'am."

He returned to filling his cup, but glancing at her from the corner of his eye, he noticed that she was staring in his direction.

He casually stood back up and sipped his water, avoiding her eyes. He bent forward to refill the cup, noting that she was still looking at him.

And that her eyes seemed to be on his backside.

He stood again quickly, and self-consciously shifted until his rear-end was safely facing the wall behind him. He focused on drinking the cup of water. He risked another glance at her, but her eyes hadn't moved... and now she seemed to be staring at his-

He bit back an embarrassed sigh, and shifted until he was side-on to Hill. Then he shifted again, turning away slightly, but not giving her a full view of his rear.

Hill's eye came back into focus, and her gaze shifted up to his face, her brow furrowing slightly.

"There's a men's room just across the hall, Captain" she commented.

"What?" Steve asked.

"A men's room. In case you need the toilet" she stated.

"Oh. I uh, no. I'm fine" he said, puzzled.

"You look like you're doing the bathroom dance" she said dryly.

"Oh."

"If you need caffeine, that pot of coffee is fresh" she gestured to the percolator with her mug.

"No, just water, thank you" Steve said quietly, dropping into a crouch to refill his cup again. He didn't want to taunt her by continuing to bend over in front of her. He looked around nervously, not wanting to just bolt from the room.

His stomach growled, and Hill glanced at him.

"I skipped breakfast" Steve said conversationally.

"The commissary is probably still serving," Hill told him. "If you're hungry?"

Steve tried to keep his face neutral as alarm bells went off inside his head. Was Maria Hill inviting him to breakfast?

"No" he said suddenly. "I'm not- I don't think that would be a good idea."

Hill looked at him like he'd lost his mind.

"I'm not hungry" he finished lamely, and walked straight out of the room, head down.

Hill shrugged and resumed compiling her mental to-do list, her eyes going out of focus as she stared off into space.

… … … … … … … …  
**Two**

"That seemed to go well" Steve commented.

'Yeah. I guess we're all getting better" the woman said with a small smile.

"Maybe we're finally learning to trust each other..." Steve said thoughtfully.

The woman's smile increased and she nodded slowly "Maybe that, too."

They walked together in silence for a moment.

Steve took a deep breath. "Well... I'm kinda hungry, I'm thinking of grabbing a bite to eat... Do you want to join me?" he said casually, cringing internally at how uncertain his voice sounded to his own ears.

"I'm starving, actually!" She said enthusiastically "That'd be great."

"Good," Steve nodded. "What do you feel like?"

She thought for a moment and shrugged "I don't really know what's around here."

"There's the Schwarma place?" Steve suggested.

"Don't think I've tried Schwarma. Middle Eastern?"

"Yes. It's great!" Steve enthused. "Really hearty servings. Very filling." he broke off and felt himself starting to blush. He drew in a deep, slow breath, willing himself to relax.

"Well, that would be good... embarrassingly enough, I'm kind-of a big eater," the woman confessed with a guilty smile, her face also growing pink.

"Oh, me too" Steve told her. "You don't have to be embarrassed at all. I think it's good to have a healthy appetite."

The woman smiled warmly at him. "All right, then. Lead the way."

_**Fin**_

_… … … … … … ..._

_Author's notes: And this concludes the _Speed Of Life _Saga! Thank you so much to everyone who left feedback, added the story to favourites or alerts, or sent me a PM; and thank you to everyone who contributed ideas for me to use!_

Lazyguy90 _was keen to see how Steve would react to seeing Maria Hill after Natasha teased him about her ... I couldn't resist!_

_I decided to leave the story on a high note, and yes, Steve's invitation is intentionally ambiguous... is he asking out someone at dance class? Someone from SHEILD with whom he's training? That is for you, dear reader, to decide..._

_I have a few things I'm working on, but it's going to be a while before anything is ready. I hope to continue soon, and I hope you'll continue to stay tuned. Follow me on Twitter and Pinterest for updates and general wackiness! _**Bombshell1701**

Thank you for reading xx


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